


Dirty Little Girl

by indigo_carter



Series: Supernatural Smut [1]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dom/sub, Dominance and Submission, F/M, Smut, dd/lg, oh god is there smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-07
Updated: 2015-03-07
Packaged: 2018-03-16 18:39:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,270
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3498803
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_carter/pseuds/indigo_carter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Original Imagine: http://dirtysupernaturalimagines.tumblr.com/post/106747899345 Imagine Dean overhearing that you like to be fucked doggy style, and after teasing you with the knowledge, he ends up using it to his advantage.<br/>Reader Gender: Female (I find it really hard to write male fics…sorry!)<br/>Word Count: 3,000+<br/>Warnings: Mild dom!Dean and sub!reader, DD/lg aspects (god knows where that came from), cursing, spanking</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dirty Little Girl

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: This turned into a song-fic? You might want to listen to ‘Lyrical Lies’ by Cute is what we Aim For during the stripping bit… (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RQGoGdaZQcA)

You were leaning on one elbow, your hand cradling a Bailey’s Irish cream coffee as you ducked your head towards the girl beside you – you had one ‘girly day’ a month, and you’d managed to persuade the boys to pitch up in your old hometown so you could spend it with your childhood best friend.

“Seriously, though, what’s it like living with those two hunks?” Sam and Dean had plopped themselves in a window table, trying to fit in with the university student crowd by sipping on vast coffees in take-away cups, and you snorted as you caught Dean’s eye.

“It’s…interesting. They’re hot, but it’s not like anything’d happen between me and them…which is just as well, ‘cause you know how kinky I am!” You giggled at her, catching hold of her arm. “Although I’d love to know what it’s like to have one of them fuck me doggy style – they are seriously hung.” You gestured, your gutter-worthy sense of humour making itself known in your vulgar motion.

“You’re kidding!”

“Am not! Look at them – no not now! They’re looking this way!”

“Uhh…Y/N, there’s only one over there.”

“What?” You glanced over at the window table, and sure enough only Sam was sat there, his vast soy latte cooling between his hands as he gazed out of the window. A small piece of paper worked its way down your neck as someone passed behind you. “Oh!”

“Hey.” Dean’s gravelly voice met your ears, and you half turned to peer up at him.

“Dean, this is my friend, Brianna. Bree, this is Dean Winchester.” You reached up, pretending to smooth your hair, and retrieved the paper from your neck.

“Uhh, Y/N, Sam and I need to make a move – check into the motel and all that. Sam’s getting a bit…y’know…about not being able to do research…do his research paper.”

“Ok, I’ll catch you in the room – text me the number.” Dean nodded, smirked, and pressed a sand-papery kiss to your temple.

“Be good.”

“Yes, Dean.” You rolled your eyes and waved at his retreating back as you deftly unfolded the paper with one hand. “Oh, fuck.” You cast your eyes over the note.

“What?”

“Did you notice how close Dean was while we were talking?”

“No…why?”

“Because he’s left me a note.” You spread the folded slip open and slid it across the table, the two words scrawled in Dean’s handwriting standing out bold against the creamy paper.

_Dirty girl._

“Oh, Y/N…you’re screwed!” The two of you giggled, and you pocketed the note. The conversation moved onto different topics, but the thought of Dean and his new knowledge lingered at the back of your mind.

***

 _Bzz bzz._ Your phone vibrated across the surface of the coffee shop table as you stood to leave, and you picked up the call, waving at Bree to go on ahead.

“Dean?”

“Sunshine Motel, room 204.”

“Ok, but why didn’t you text me?”

“Sam’s in 203, across the hall.”

“Great…wait, what?”

“Meet me. Soon.”

“I’ll be there, give me five.” You hung up, slung your phone into the pocket of your hoodie, and dashed from the shop, grabbing Bree’s elbow as you did. “Look, I’ve got to dash. Apparently there’s been some emergency at the motel with the rooms. I’ll still be in town tomorrow, catch you then?”

“Sure.” You squeezed your friend’s hand and hailed a taxi.

***

“And twenty-five cents change.”

“Keep it, thanks.” You slammed the door of the taxi behind you and fled for the motel entrance. You bounced up the exterior stairs and stopped abruptly. What on earth was Dean going to do with that knowledge? You peered at the number on the door in front of you. 207. The one to the right of it was 205. You turned right and padded along the hall until you were between 203 and 204. Indecision filled your mind. Sam and mindless, boring research, and having to deal with the repercussions of letting down Dean…or Dean, and dealing with the repercussions of not letting him down… You sighed, shoulders slumped and tapped on the door of 204. Better to face the fire sooner rather than later. “Dean? It’s me.” Padding footsteps (that didn’t sound like Dean’s boots…) neared the door, which swung open, apparently of its own violation.

“In. Now.” Dean’s voice had reached new depths, and you could barely reign in a shiver which sent your skin to gooseflesh. Taking a few steps into the room, you noted the dimmed lamps, closed curtains and the second, definite click as Dean double locked the door. “Do you normally talk to your friends like that?”

“Like what, Dean?” You refused to turn and face him, choosing instead to study the buckle on your bag.

“So downright dirty. You’ve never spoken to me and Sam like that.”

“Yeah, well it’s different with you two.”

“Oh?” Heat washed over your back as he took a step closer to you.

“Well, ok maybe it’s more that it’s different with her. We grew up together…explored together…if you get my gist. We tell each other everything.”

“And?”

“And what?”

“You’re happy to talk like that in front of just anyone are you?”

“It’s not like anyone here knows me anymore, Dean!”

“So you’ll talk like that in front of strangers but not the people you trust with your life day in, day out?”

“Pretty much, Dean, because I have to live with you, too!” You whirled to face him, squeaking and stopping short of slamming your hands on him when you realised his bare, muscular chest was inches from you, and you reeled back, eyeing him. He was naked, bar the boxers which failed to hide his arousal, and you struggled to hold in the panicked giggles which threatened to burst forth. “What the…”

“Are you a dirty little girl, Y/N?” Heat pooled in your core, all thought of giggling gone, and your bag dropped to the floor.

“D-Dean…”

“I said, are you a dirty little girl?”

“Y-yes, sir.” Your voice emerged as an embarrassing squeak, and Dean smirked, reaching out a finger and sliding the zipper on your hoodie down.

“Are you a dirty little slut talking about your kinks in public?”

“Yes, s-sir.” He reached forwards, pushing the fabric from your shoulders and revealing the tank top beneath as the sweater fell to the ground.

“I wonder what other little kinks we can find, little girl. I’ve wanted to play with you for so long…” his voice dripped with honeyed longing and he gazed at you with eyes blown with lust.

“Daddy…” you tried tentatively, “I’ve wanted to play with you too…” You watched as his dick twitched and he reached for your waist, pressing his lips to the shell of your ear, pulling you close against him so his cock was trapped between you.

“Call me that again.”

“Yes, daddy.” You moaned, almost involuntarily as his tongue traced the tendons in your neck.

“Mmm…I think dirty little girls need to be punished, Y/N. Wouldn’t you agree?” He murmured against your throat, and a groan of agreement left your lips unbidden as you gripped his biceps. His lips parted and he sucked a mark onto your neck, licking away the sting. While he lavished your neck and shoulders with open-mouthed kisses, you toed off your sneakers and socks, standing barefoot in front of him, your hands pressed to his arms, gasps and huffs of pleasure escaping your throat.

“Baby girl, you’re wearing far too many clothes. Strip for daddy.” His voice emerged husky and wrecked with lust, and he backed towards the bed, settling with his ankles crossed and his shoulders propped against the bedhead. An idea popped into your head and you fished about in your divested hoodie for your phone, setting it on the side and pressing play.

_An old man gave me a tip he said_  
_“Don’t waste your time with politics” he said_  
_“Just chase skirts instead”_

Swishing your hips in time with the music, you approached the bed, hands above your head, arching your back and emphasising the curve of your neck and back, and the angle of your waist before sliding your hands down your sides, playing with the hem of your tank top, raising it inch by inch over your belly and trailing your fingers over your skin.

_“Life is too short, and you’re almost dead” he said_  
_“I met a woman once, I gave her my best shot”_  
_“But never did I talk and talk and talk”_

You tugged the tight tank over your breasts, letting them bounce free of your top in their lace cups. Dean sucked in a breath as you lifted it over your head, extending your arms fully and lifting your ribcage as you tossed the shirt over your head before trailing your hands back down your body, cupping your breasts playfully and teasing the edge of your bra.

_“If I had her back, I’d be as real as my age”_  
_“I so don’t blame them, I wouldn’t do the same”_  
_“But I can blame them, I’d sing her this”_

Sliding your hands back down your abdomen, you popped the button on your shorts and lowered the zip tooth by tooth, using one hand on the zipper, and letting the other dip beneath the waistband, spreading the material to give Dean a minutely better view of your matching lace panties with each movement.

_And you want to be dressed in poetry_  
_But imagery doesn’t fit_  
_And you want resizing_  
_But darling dear get a grip_

Slipping the denim down your thighs, you thanked god you’d bothered to shave and trim in the previous motel, and shimmied closer to Dean, allowing gravity to take your shorts, stepping out of them to kneel on the bed in your bra and panties. You crawled up the bed until you met Dean’s feet. You stopped, unsure and stretched backwards.

_And I think what I just wrote is going over my head_  
_I’m stealing lines from myself_  
_And what I said was never said_  
_It’s just a lyrical lie_  
_Made up in my mind_

His hands landed on your stomach and wrapped themselves around your waist, pulling you upright.

“You tease. Look at what you’ve done to me.” You smirked at him and looked down between you at his strained boxers, a smeared stain of precum across them.

“I’m sorry, daddy.” You reached out a hand and stroked his trapped cock, eliciting a hiss from him. “Do you want me to make it better?” Winking at him, you pushed him back down onto the bed and knelt between his legs, sliding his boxers down and letting him kick them free.

_And you want to be dressed in poetry_  
_But imagery doesn’t fit_  
_And you want resizing_  
_But darling dear get a grip_

You wrapped your hand around his cock, revelling in the silky smoothness of him, and pumped him, smearing his precum down his shaft and drawing groans from his chest. You watched the chain reaction of muscles clenching as you worked his cock in your hand, an idle smile flitting across your face as you pulled your hair over one shoulder with your free hand, before dipping down and capturing the head of his cock in your mouth.

_You’re moving but not aware_  
_You’re drowsy without a care_  
_Except keeping your whites behind your lids_

He moaned loudly, and you pressed your tongue into the underside of his cock as you bobbed downwards, taking as much of his impressive length into your mouth as you could. Increasing in speed and confidence, you worked him with your mouth and hand, your free hand resting beside him on the bed.

_And your lids are your best canvas_  
_I can only imagine what you’re painting, what you’re painting_  
_And your body on my mattress is proof_  
_And your makeup on my pillow is proof_  
_But do you think I am telling you the truth_

His fingers tangled with yours as you found a particularly sensitive spot, and he groaned your name. You felt wetness pool between your legs and moaned against him.

“Y/N, you’re going to have to stop.” You lifted your head from him, your lips leaving his cock with a quiet pop.

“Stop, daddy?”

“I want to fuck you, little girl. Not blow my load in your mouth in under five seconds like some randy teen.”

_It’s just a lyrical lie_  
_Made up in my mind_  
_And you want to be dressed in poetry_  
_But imagery doesn’t fit_  
_And you want resizing_  
_But darling dear get a grip_

He lifted you easily, placing you gently on the bed with your head on the pillow. He hovered over you, supporting his weight in his hands as his hips rocked gently against yours.

“Y/N…if you don’t want this…”

“I’ll say Impala. Kiss me, already.” He lowered his head, his eyes drifting over your face, taking in all the details before focussing on your lips. You bit your lower lip, running your tongue over it anxiously. He mirrored your action, and dipped his head lower to capture your lips with his. It was a gently powerful kiss, his lips moulded to yours and you relinquished any power over your own body. His mouth dominated yours, his tongue and yours doing token battle before you submitted to him, your body yielding under his as he ground harder against you, his kiss becoming crushing, while his teeth tugged your bottom lip, and you tried desperately to stop the moan growing in your chest.

_And you want to be dressed in poetry_  
_But imagery doesn’t fit_  
_And you want resizing_  
_But darling dear get a grip_

“Roll over, little girl. Dirty little girls need to be punished before they can get what they want.” Your heart leapt as you rolled as you were told. He knelt next to you, his fingertips sliding over the edges of your panties before hooking into the top and yanking them down to your ankles in one move. He grabbed a handful of your ass in one hand, massaging the tissues and making sure his fingertips dipped between your legs to brush your soaking core.

“I never want to hear you talk about that in public again, little girl.” He lifted his hand and gave your ass a short, sharp smack before massaging the pain away as you gasped under him. “Good little girls talk to their daddies about it, not the whole world.” He raised his hand again and smacked your ass twice in quick succession, his blows getting harder. While massaging the tissue with one hand, the other slipped between your legs and found your dripping heat. “Good little girls do not get this turned on by their punishments. I think I’ll have to find another way to punish you, Y/N.” You groaned in agreement and gasped as his hand slid up your back from your ass, unsnapping your bra as he passed, and took hold of your hair, pulling your head back. “Oh, you agree, do you? Dirty little slut.”

His other hand was working between your legs, his thumb inside you, pressing insistently on your G spot, his fingers playing a concerto on your clit which had you moaning into the pillow as he pulled on your hair. Abruptly he pulled his hand away from your core and pushed your hips into the air, spreading your legs so he could kneel between them. His breath hit your slit moments before his tongue delved between your folds and traced around your hole. He lavished as much attention on your clit as he had on your neck with delicious flicks and sucks, and in moments you were a soaked, writhing, moaning mess, face pressed to the pillows and ass in the air. Just as you felt the coil of hot tension building in your stomach, Dean pulled away from you and flipped you right way up. He grinned down at you, your wetness shining on his chin. You pouted at him and leaned up to run your tongue up his neck.

“I thought you promised to punish me, daddy?”

“Oh, I am, baby girl.” He dragged his swollen lips over your peaking nipples and your moans filled the room. “Get back on your stomach. I’m not done with you yet.” Heat coiled in your core as you raised your ass in the air. You heard the rustle of a condom packet and then Dean was back at your ass. “You don’t cum until I say, okay?”

“Yes, daddy.” Your voice was wrecked from moaning, and you swallowed hard as he laced one hand in your hair and used the other to line himself up at your core. He slid in with a single push and you both gasped at the sensation. He paused to let you adjust before rocking his hips against you in a way which had him pressing against your sweet spot instantly.

The hand in your hair gripped more firmly, pulling your head further back and tightening your throat in a way which made you moan. He pulled almost all the way out, his hand landing on your ass with a sharp smack closely followed by a strong thrust which had you rocking forwards on your knees and elbows. Picking up the pace Dean began to thrust swiftly into you, each filling you deeper than the last, a litany of curses and moans falling from your lips as you felt the coil of heat building between your legs. Dean leant over you, the movement changing his angle to one which brushed all your sweet spots inside and had you moaning loudly.

“Remember, little girl, no cumming til I say.” You whimpered as he slid one hand between your legs and circled your clit. “No cumming, now, Y/N.” He ramped up the pressure on your clit, pumping his cock faster and harder and you felt tears forming as you tried to hold back an all-consuming orgasm. “No. Cumming.” Your pussy fluttered around him and he growled in your ear, the sound arousing you further and drawing your climax closer.

“Please daddy, please let me…” your plea trailed off as he thrust into you particularly hard.

“Please what, baby?”

“I’m so close…”

“Not yet, sweetling.” You groaned your frustration and pushed your hips into his, canting and rolling them in an attempt to hurry up his orgasm. He moaned your name, delicious whimpers and catches of breath signalling your ploy was working. His fingers stuttered on your swollen clit, and he breathed a single word into your ear. “Now.” With one stroke on your clit and a thrust of his hips, he had your entire body caving in on itself. You whited out, your vision blurring with the intensity of the orgasm ripping through your body. Dean’s grunts and keening sounds stimulated you further, and your pussy walls clenching down on his throbbing cock worked him for all he had.

As the last waves of pleasure rippled through your muscles, you sank face-first onto the bed, utterly spent. Dean laid on top of you, the majority of his weight supported on his own limbs, but his head and shoulders resting entirely on you. He rested there a moment before rolling onto his side and pulling you into his arms.

“Was that ok, baby?” He asked anxiously, his hands soothing your sensitised body. You peered at him blearily over your shoulder.

“Ok? Dean, that was fucking perfect.”


End file.
